


Terminal Star

by Kit



Category: Monster Blood Tattoo Series - D. M. Cornish
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit/pseuds/Kit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Man and monster find each other on the road, or let themselves be found. Post Factotum, some speculation on the nature of rossamünderlings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady Threnody](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lady+Threnody).



> _You have travelled so far  
>  My terminal star  
> In your coat so red  
> But I still don't know how  
> I can watch a thing now  
> When it's already dead  
> When it's already dead  -- _Karine Polwart

 

“Did you think I would not search? _Really,_ lit—Rossamünd.”

They had come across each other near the end of lit paths, tracks of the Idlewilde desolate and drear against skin and eyes, over shoes and the hems of coats. And Rossamünd Bookchild felt his eyes burn.   “Surely you can say it, Miss Europe.”

“A Duchess,” said Europe, clearing her throat, “Should at _least_ be Ms.”

“Ah, of course.” It surpised Rossamünd that he still stammered a little, in the path of this woman. The fulgar had kept the fine pattern of her Number Three, dark proofing swathing her until he was sure he might find memories in every fold.  “I did not mean to be rude, Lady Rose.”

Her smile was thin. “So the monsters call me?”

“With the greatest respect, I assure you!” Rossamünd yearned and strained and did _quite_ reach out to the woman—still taller than he, but more than dangerously thin. He felt his voice choke and change. “You have searched a _very_ long time.”

“And now you let me find you,” the lahzar snapped. “Do not deny it.”

Rossamünd—man and manikin—flinched. “It did not seem,” he said gravely, “As if we have very much more time.”  Biting his lip, he reached for her hand. Let her fingers graze there. “Your search can _end_ now.”

“And that is a good thing, is it?” Europe did not pull away from him, instead trapping his finely grimed hand in her gaunt one. “A grand thing. A quest fulfilled, O hurrah. _Rossamünd_.”

Her pain lodged in his throat. “You’d have gone on unto death,” he whispered.

The fulgar glared at him, fire and slaughter and decades showing across the spent face. “That would have been one sight better than seeing you thus.”

 “I am still glad to have seen you.”

“Tish tosh, boy. You’re weeping.” She did not release his hand, and so there was nothing to be done about Rossamünd’s streaming face.

“So I am,” he said. “The first time in many years.”

“ _You_ , so hardened?” Europe snorted. Remembered inelegance. “I cannot think it.”

“Miss Europe.” He was stout, now, not looking away from ravages or water. “Please rest. We’re neither of us unchanged.”

“Though it shows more on my dial than yours. Is it a potion of yours, factotum?”

“No skold work. No chemistry.” Rossamünd shook his head, eyes fixed. “It is...simply what I am, I suppose.”

The Duchess of Naimes felt her lips twitch. “As you have ever been. But, Rossamünd...”

“Yes, Miss Europe?”

“I would have _loved you_ ,” whispered the old woman. “If you had only grown.”


End file.
